Bitter Pill
by IlovesMesomeGlee
Summary: Dave takes a new job as a caretaker. And caring for an old man has its challenges. But as the two learn more about each other they find tthat they have a lot more in common then either ever dreamed or imagined. Rated T. I don't own Glee.


**AN: Hi Everyone!**

**i'm back with another story! I hope y'all don't mind. :)**

**I just wanted to say a HUGE THANK YOU TO umbrella0326! I was going through a TOUGH time and his encouragement and love helped me come back on here and help me feel good about myself again. Thank you! Love you! Mwah! X3**

**On to the story, on my break this story came out of nowhere as most of my stories do, so I decided to run with it. :)**

**There are twists and turns so buckle up! Lol! **

**That's all I wanted to say and give away. I hope you give this story a chance. Please review. Please be kind. Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

Chapter 1

The certificate clearly said his name – "David Alan Karofsky". Besides his driver's license, it was the only thing he owned that had his full name on it. Sure, he probably had a birth certificate locked somewhere in a safe but this was something that he had _EARNED_. It was even issued from the Ohio Department of Health and signed in the Director's own personal rubber stamp! Dave was pretty proud of himself that late morning, driving along Market Street. This area of Lima was where more upper middle class families lived. The road soon changed to a boulevard and Dave signaled to turn right. The directions seemed easy enough and despite the light spatter of rain on his windshield, Dave found the house and easily figured out the guy was rich.

_VERY_ rich. In fact, the home spoke of Lima's true past – rich in locomotive history, manufacturing, and trade. Oddly enough, the house was bright yellow and needed a bit of a paint job. But the structure was astounding.

Four pillars supported the cornice with a brick-laden porch. _TWO_ swings hovered uselessly in the breeze and flowers were meticulously planted nearby. The walkway had been brushed recently and there were no signs of wear and tear. The slate roof was dark in comparison to the rest of the house and a war turret had been added to the original structure. Dave came to a stop to admire the turret, noting that it's inlay work suggested it was Art Deco.

_MUST'VE BEEN BUILT IN THE 1920s, _Dave thought.

There was some mail in the slot as he strolled up the steps. Armed with his certificate and his new employee materials, he came to a stop just outside the door. The wooden structure looked like a portcullis – it was heavy and stained a chestnut color. Thick, iron-clad door handles adorned it and there was a little spy window that Dave could see through if he stood on his tippy toes.

After a quick sigh, Dave took the rest of the steps towards the door and knocked. The sound reverberated throughout the porch and he didn't realize how loud he had knocked. He didn't want to scare the client and he announced his arrival with a police-like bang!

He considered knocking again when he heard some shuffling on the other side.

"What do you want?!" an old man asked from behind the door.

Dave cleared his throat. "Um, my name is Dave Karofsky. I'm here-"

"Who?!"

He spoke up. "M-My name is Dave Karofsky! I'm here from the WeCare Community. You hired-"

"I don't know of any Dave Shishovsky or whatever. Go away!"

Dave took a quick breath. "No, Mr. Kapilakowski, my name is Dave and you hired a home health care aide to stop by. Well, I'm your guy!"

The cleverness went nowhere. But then again, it DID go somewhere. It went into the realm of silence. Several seconds passed and nothing happened. But after another excruciating bit of tension, Dave could see the flap over the spy window open. Dave instantly smiled but couldn't see the the client very well.

"Why, you're just a boy!"

Dave grinned even further. "Well, yes, I'm twenty-six years old. Do you want to see my credentials, Mr. Kapilakowski?"

The old man grumbled. "Well, hell! Let me get my glasses! You _KNOW_, I never open my door to strangers. The last time someone did in my neighborhood they were mauled and robbed. Couldn't stand how…"

The client went on and on, but his voice drifted away. Dave presumed he was getting his glasses and he practiced a little thing that everyone truly hates – patience. He looked around and wondered if the client wanted his mail. He sidestepped, snatched the mail, and resumed his exact spot, in front of what would soon become The Interrogation Window.

The client returned. And this time, Dave could see the outline of a man's face. Well, really, it was the light reflecting from the thick lenses, but Dave took it anyway.

"Want to see my credentials?" Dave enthusiastically asked.

"Well, if I have to…"

Dave flashed the certificate and his new WeCare Community ID. The old man scanned it a few times and took his good ol' sweet time reading. Dave didn't mind his hand hurting from being extended. He was an eager beaver, hoping and hoping that the client would like and accept him.

"Hmmph." The man exclaimed. "Karofsky, huh? The only Karofsky I know is a scheister lawyer named Paul Karofsky."

Dave's head flashed and then returned. "Well, I'm Dave. Dave Karofsky. And see? I work for WeCare-"

"Yeah, yeah…" He grumbled. "Well, might as well get your ass in here boy. There's work to do."

"Okey dokey!"

"Oh, for the love of…" And then, he grimaced. "Hey! What are you doing with my mail?!"

Dave cocked his head politely. "I thought I'd get it for you!"

"Well, put it back! I didn't tell you to do that! If I _HAD_, you would've gotten it. But I didn't. And you don't have to-" Dave heard the door being unlocked, "do anything without my permission! I should have all rights to call your stupid WeCare whatever institute and give them a piece of my mind. Why, I never-" the door opened, "in my seventy-one years of existence had to piece together…"

Mr. Kapilakowski stopped. His expression was one of surprise and awe. "Damn… You're a big fucker."

Dave chuckled. "Yes, I played football at McKinley."

"Mm-hmm." He shut the door and Dave watched him go. According to his paperwork, Ted Kapilakowski survived a stroke and it was clearly evident. Ted shuffled along in his slippers and the little guy proved he was still amble. Dave took several notes of Ted's walk and committed to memory that either physical therapy or home exercise was needed.

That's when Dave noticed the house. As he followed Ted, it was spectacular to see a grand staircase in the center with an oak foyer in the center. Rooms were situated on either side, complete with Art Deco lampshades, gaudy furniture, and curtains that would make Carol Burnett envious. They scooted to the right of the staircase and Dave passed a dining room table that could easily seat fifteen. The hardwood floors creaked from age but held firm. They wound up in a grand kitchen, covered in white paint and plated nickel. Dave didn't even try to cover up his open mouth.

Ted stopped near a kitchen table and poured himself a cup of coffee. Dave watched him do it and could see the man's arms shaking as he poured. When that was done, Ted placed the coffee pot and Dave thought he was imagining things. It was no ordinary coffee pot.

"Is that a percolator?" Dave asked.

"Yeah."

"Wow! I've never seen one used before!"

Ted peered at him and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "If you want a cup, I'll deduct it from your pay."

"Oh, no!" Dave amiably said. "I just love antiques and I haven't seen one of those in use before."

"Mm-hmm."

Dave paused and then remembered his job. "Oh! I love your house. It's massive!"

"Mm-hmm." Ted sat down with three grunts and dropped a sugar cube (or four) in his cup. The cubes were in a Tiffany jar with a precious, almost transparent lid. A 'cling, cling!' sound filled the room asTed stirred his coffee with a Mikasa spoon.

"So!" Dave said, slapping his hands together. "Shall we get started? Like I said, I'm your home health-"

"Mm-hmm." Ted sipped his coffee and grimaced. After two more sugar cubes were added, another round of stirring, then some bottled water added to cool the coffee, and then another taste test, Ted was ready to drink it. Dave watched it all, noticing that his fingers were slowly clenching into fists.

Dave didn't know what to do. Ted sat at the table and stared at the wall. Now and then, he sipped his coffee and didn't look at Dave. But after a tense minute or so, Ted began to speak.

"What do you want?" Ted asked.

"Um, excuse me?"

"I said, what do you want?"

Dave was confused. "Well, I want to do my assessment of you and get started doing what's needed around here."

Ted took the last gulp of his coffee. "And what do you think that is?"

Dave blinked. "Well, you applied for assistance with home healthcare and monitoring. I was told there was some light housework and cooking to do. In addition-"

"Does this house look like it needs cleaned?"

Dave stiffened. "I…I guess not."

"Alright, then. So, I repeat." Ted swiveled in his chair and peered up at him. "What do you want?"

Dave remembered his training. "I want to ensure that you have the best care we provide. And when I-"

"No, no, no!" Ted exclaimed with a wave of his hand. "I mean, what do _YOU_ want? Do you want to do this the rest of your godforsaken life?!"

Dave took a deep breath and calmly said, "No. I want to become a sports agent."

Ted narrowed his eyes. "Mm-hmm."

The big guy briefly shook his head. "So, what is it you need here?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You. You wanted an aide. The agency sent me here. And here I am. So, tell me…" Dave braved pulling up a kitchen stool and sitting near him. "What do YOU want?"

Ted shifted back in his seat so he could get a clearer picture of…everything. "It's funny."

"What's funny?"

The old guy looked away. "It's been a long time since anyone has asked me that. A long time indeed…"

Dave folded his hands together. "Well, we can start simple. You can let me do my medical assessment so my boss can get off my back-"

Ted snorted. Dave continued.

"And _THEN_, we can get to the _REAL_ reason you needed an aide."

Ted's voice grew dark. "Oh, there's a reason boy. There's a very big reason." He pointed to his feet and kept his eyes on Dave. "You see these useless feet? Well, they like to make me fall. It doesn't matter if I'm doing a Sudoku puzzle or taking a crap. It happens!" Ted's voice grew louder. "And I hate it! Do you hear me boy?! I fucking hate it! And I don't want to deal with it any more than I have to! Now you get on with your…whatever assessment you need. Assessment, my ass. I know what I need and you do too. So, you better get used to wiping my ass, changing my diaper, and burning my breakfast!"

Dave was too stunned to speak. He just stood there, unable and unwilling to remember anyone who was so bitter, so resentful of life and everything in general. There was a hidden context that Dave was sure that existed but it's not like he could really do or say anything about it. So, Dave cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I-"

"Shut up." Ted grumbled. "Melba toast, butter on the side. Two, _NOT_ three, two pieces of bacon. Four, I said _FOUR_, sunnyside up eggs. And God help you if you don't cut my morning oranges like I want, boy!"

Dave slowly stood up. Forcibly, he smiled down at his client and calmly said, "Of course, Mr. Kapilakowski." Dave turned towards the stove.

"And call me Ted, boy!"

Dave fired back, "And call me Dave, Ted!"

For the very first time, Ted partially smiled up at his new aide. "Pour me another cup of coffee, bo-…Dave. And get movin'! You're slow as molasses."

So, Dave resigned to being a houseboy for the time being. He would still need to do his medical assessment, call in to the agency, provide an update, verify medical supplies and equipment were available, and drive Ted wherever he needed to go. But in the end, it was his patience that would win out. Karofskys weren't known for their patience but when it came to Ted Kapilakowski, well, there would be plenty of time for that.

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**AN: What do you all think? Should I continue? Thank you for reading! :) Have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


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